


Not a monster

by wishingonafeather



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingonafeather/pseuds/wishingonafeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes in the night and finds a strange creature outside his house</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a monster

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this artwork  
> http://emillu.tumblr.com/post/64812318882/dramaaa-i-need-a-fic-about-this-im-begging-you  
> This is my first fic on here, so any comments would be greatly appreciated

Thanks to my new Beta [reynardo](http://reynardo.livejournal.com/) :)

John Watson woke with a start, still haunted by the horrors of the war. As usual, sleep failed to return to him, so he got up and put a jumper and his long, black coat on over his pyjamas, wrapping the blue scarf Mary had made for him last Christmas, just before she died, around his neck. The crisp, clear October air filled his lungs as he watched the first rays of dawn begin to creep over the hills. In the pale light, he could see the figure of a man wearing only a pair of thin trousers, huddled under a tree.

 

"Hello, are you alright?"

 

The figure jumped at this and tried to scramble away, tripping over clumsy limbs. John approached the man, and was confused as he shied away, hiding his face in his hands. "It's ok; I'm not going to hurt you. I'm John Watson.  What's your name?"

 

"I was never given one." He replied. His speech was as clumsy as his movements and slightly slurred; not as if he was drunk, but more like a child who hasn't fully grasped how their mouth moves to form words.

 

"That's ridiculous, everyone has a name."

 

The light was now strong enough for John to see the man clearly, and he nearly stepped back in shock.  A long, jagged scar ran the entire length of the man's torso, with more covering his face and head, which was covered in patches of dark curly hair. But it was his eyes that truly shocked John. They were a piercing pale blue, almost silver, and shone with so much intelligence, but also pain and fear. It was a look John was all too familiar with, having seen it in the eyes of many  soldiers as he tried to save their lives.

 

"What happened to you?" John slowly approached the man, and this time, he did not cower away.

 

"I have always been this way. My master threw me out, appalled by what he had created.  I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on."

 

"Milton. You've read  _Paradise Lost_?"

 

"Yes. I relate to the character of Lucifer, denounced because of who he is, alone, never given a chance at happiness. Only ever treated with fear." He shivered, his teeth chattering as he spoke.

 

"You must be freezing! Here." John took off his coat and helped the man into it.

 

"Why are you helping me John, I'm a monster. Are you not scared of me?" John bent down, pressing his scarf into the man's hand.

 

"I don't think you're a monster. I think you're just someone who needs to be understood. You said that you don't have a name, so then I'll give you one." He thought for a moment. "Sherlock. It's unique, just like you. Come on, let's get you inside. I live on my own, so it will be nice to have some company." He held out his hand and, after a moment, Sherlock took it, letting John pull him to his feet. "Everything's going to be alright Sherlock, you're safe now."


End file.
